


i was still testing my luck

by theamazingpeterparker



Series: vampires will never hurt you [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Human Niall, Light Angst, M/M, Moving In Together, Vampire Harry, Vampires, Werewolf Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:50:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamazingpeterparker/pseuds/theamazingpeterparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Zayn doesn’t know how to explain to Niall that both he and Harry’s obliviousness is really just unwavering, unquestionable loyalty to each other. Zayn’s only ever seen that kind of love between other werewolves in packs. But then again, he thinks as Harry walks through the door with a smile and Niall perks up and chirps a good morning, that he’s never met a pair quite like Harry and Niall before. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry's really good at rolling joints, Twilight isn't that bad, and there's a motorcycle named Betty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i was still testing my luck

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't think there would be a sequel to this but HERE WE ARE. shoutouts to clare, rachel, and arwa for enabling/encouraging more of this madness!!  
> title's from alleyways by the neighborhood.

Harry doesn’t know how to dress for special occasions. He didn’t know what to wear in 1965 and he sure as hell doesn’t know what to wear _now_. He’s too embarrassed to go to Niall, and the last time he went to Louis for advice he ended up at a wedding wearing an open shirt and a scarf because that’s what Louis said “formal” would be. It’s just that he wants to look good for Niall’s graduation but he doesn’t have a clue what the hell people actually wear to college graduations. He’s scrolling hopelessly through Pinterest when Niall texts, _should i decorate my cap ? help me out with some puns_

 _“I don’t even go here.”_ Harry taps out.

_ha ha, would be a bettr cap for u probably_

Harry huffs a laugh but turns back to his search results. Hesitates for only a few seconds before he types out, _what are you wearing?_

Niall’s bubble floats in and out of the thread for a few seconds, long enough for Harry to start contemplating if a new Hermes scarf would be a bit much for a graduation when Niall’s reply whooshes in, _are you trying to get into my pants right now ? cuz im not wearing any ;)_

Harry considers this for a few beats before he shakes himself out of it, rubs his eyes and taps back, _for graduation, Niall_.

It’s a while until he gets another notification, this time a snapchat of a suit on a hanger, complete with a sleek blue tie. It’s very Niall, which makes Harry groan out loud in frustration. And then, another text, because Niall’s probably a psychic: _are u freaking out ? H, ur not even graduating ,_

 _I just want to look nice._ Harry clicks back and then tosses his phone behind him onto the couch. It’s almost midnight and Niall’s no doubt procrastinating cleaning and packing up his apartment. Harry would almost feel bad for distracting him if he didn’t know that this conversation is a welcome distraction for Niall.The younger man is probably disappointed that this didn’t become a sexting session, and instead is quickly evolving into a Harry Doesn’t Know What The Hell He’s Doing session.

Harry’s phone dings five minutes later and Harry manages to ignore it for about forty-five seconds, a new record, until it dings another three times and he practically dives over the back of the couch to read the messages.

_wear the flamingo shirt_  
_im kidding, DONT wear that_  
_do u still have tht dark gray button up ? just wear that_

_if ur really that worried, im sure i can find u something_

Niall’s quick replies are soothing but still entirely unhelpful, and Harry throws a glare towards his dresser. If worse comes to worst, he can show up on Niall’s doorstep tomorrow morning and pout until Niall dresses him himself. Which wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

 _Get a good night’s sleep, big day tomorrow ! x_ he tells Niall an hour later and Niall responds first with a string of emojis, the beer pints and sunglasses smiley and a variation of celebratory emojis. And then, a few beats later, _get a good night staring at ur walls, or whatever the fuck it is u do. night xxxxx_

(If Harry actually spends a few hours staring at his dresser, Niall never has to know.)

*

Niall’s eating waffles on the couch in his suit when Harry comes over the next morning.

“Louis already spilled tea on his shirt,” Niall blurts, as if that’s any excuse for the syrup that is almost-dripping onto his sleeve and Harry just rolls his eyes and unzips the dry-cleaning bag he’s carrying.

“Is this okay?” and Harry feels stupid for asking but he can’t help it. They both know that Niall is hardly the best authority for fashion advice but Harry was the one who wore his overcoat to a houseparty three weeks ago, so.

The corner of Niall’s mouth twitches but he doesn’t say anything, just licks a crumb off his thumb and sets his plate down on the coffee table before getting up to inspect the outfit Harry’s brought over. He tugs the bag open a bit more and smiles, gives Harry a fluid nod and shrug before collapsing back on the couch to his breakfast. Harry fiddles with the cap and gown that are abandoned on the kitchen table before going back around the couch to sit with Niall.

“Where’s Louis?” Harry asks, edges himself onto the end of the couch until Niall scoots over to give him some more room. Harry swipes his finger across the drip of syrup on the edge of the plate that keeps threatening to ruin Niall’s suit and licks it off. Niall’s watching Harry’s mouth when he replies, “already on campus, showing his mum around.”

Harry hums and flashes a fanged smile, reaches over and pats Niall on the cheek. “Proud of you.”

Niall snorts and runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots the way he does when he’s nervous. “Yeah, and how many times have you graduated from uni? Like, sixty?”

Harry’s smile widens and he leans in, cups Niall’s face in his hands and kisses his forehead animatedly. “Eleven,” he replies, and then grabs his dry-cleaning bag and gets up from the couch before Niall can swat at him. “I’ll see you there, Niall. Just came by to make sure I wouldn’t be dressed like a dickhead. And to wish you luck.”

It’s a nice ceremony but it’s long, Harry’s squinting through his sunglasses by the end of it and his shirt that started fully buttoned is now only down to three that are still fastened. He’s still the first one on his feet when the president of uni says his final congratulations, clapping and whistling through his fingers. Niall’s cap flips up into the air, his only decoration the two red rhinestones at the corner of the cap that Harry stuck on this morning.

Niall launches himself at Harry for a hug when the graduates and families start filtering onto the field and Harry hugs him tight back, presses his face into the side of Niall’s neck for a moment and he mutters “great job, babe.” Niall’s bright pink when they pull apart but he’s grinning, Harry can practically see his pulse jumping at his neck. “Come meet my folks, yeah?”

Harry swallows back his panic and attempts a few short nods, finally agrees with a smile. “Yeah.”

Bobby Horan’s got a strong handshake and Maura hugs like Niall does, warm and sincere. Her perfume puts a lump in Harry’s throat when she hugs him and he has to duck away for a moment. He hasn’t cried in seventy years but he feels like he could now.

*

“Did you go to Woodstock?” Louis asks, and Harry just smiles down at his hands. He and Louis have given up on packing in favor of sitting in the middle of their empty living room with Louis’s tupperware container of weed while Niall packs up the last of their DVDs and videogames.

“So you probably know how to roll a sick blunt,” Louis follows up with an equally cocky smirk, offering Harry his box of rolling paper.

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s been a few decades, Lou.”

“Should be like riding a bike, Harry,” Louis sniffs.

Harry doesn’t bring up the fact that he hasn’t ridden a bike in decades, either, but instead pulls the container closer and sets one of the rolling papers on the ground in front of him. He breaks up the mix and tucks it into the paper with ease, pinches his thumbs around the edges as he rolls it and seals it. He hands it back to Louis thirty seconds later and Louis looks like he might actually cry when he gasps, “it’s _perfect_.”

“Can you get high?” Niall asks as he pushes the last box into the corner and sits next to Harry, plucks the joint from Louis to examine it.

“If you are,” Harry replies quietly and Niall flushes, shifts a bit on the floor and waves the joint back at Louis.

“Let’s light it up, then,” Louis declares, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. “I’d like to see this.”

“You have to get high from blood?” Louis asks a while later, slumped against the couch and squinting at Harry, “you sure? You should try it, just to be sure.”

“I’m pretty sure,” Harry replies but he trails off because Niall’s been scooting closer since they started smoking and he’s practically in Harry’s lap now. Louis is smiling lazily, waves a hand at them.

“Niall thinks you should make sure.”

“Fuck off, Lou,” Niall sighs but doesn’t take his eyes off Harry. “You want to try it?”

Harry smiles warmly, runs his fingers through Niall’s hair and nods. Niall takes a hit from the joint and Harry expects it to come to him next but Louis takes it instead, and Niall surges up to Harry’s mouth. He nudges Harry’s lips with his own until Harry’s mouth falls open, fangs still resting on his lip when Niall exhales into Harry’s mouth. Niall shivers when Harry’s fangs slide against Niall’s mouth and Harry instinctively inhales. The smoke hits sharp and acidic at the back of his throat and then it’s just Niall’s warmth, soft and sweet and the shotgun quickly turns into a kiss, Harry’s fangs sliding out of sight.

And then an, “aww, gross,” that Louis groans, breaking them both out of it. Niall blinks a few times until Harry comes back into focus, his expression hopeful and Harry huffs a soft laugh, touches Niall’s cheek. “Nothin’, love. Sorry.”

Niall pouts, shifting around for a few moments and then offers Harry his wrist and Louis half-shouts, “ _NO_ way in fucking hell are you doing that here.”

Harry laughs loudly now and shakes his head, pushing Niall’s arm away. “Not really into marijuana anyway, bruv. Woodstock is still a little too fresh.”

*

Niall goes home for a few weeks after graduation. He’s moving in with Harry when he goes back to London for the summer but for now Harry’s travelling on his own, on the hunt for more vampires or maybe another house somewhere and promised Niall to stop by Transylvania and take some pictures of Vlad the Impaler’s castle for him. Niall wishes he had asked Harry if he could go with him.

 _first time on an airplane in 10 years !_ Harry snapchats a photo of his suitcase on the airport terminal’s floor while Niall’s helping his mum prepare lunch.

 _first time Cooking a real meal In 10 months  !_ Niall snaps back, cherry tomato in his mouth while snarling at the camera. Harry screenshots it.

 _wish i was there x_ is the snapchat Niall gets in response, a front-camera photo of the window Harry must be sitting in front of. The window’s reflection shows a floating phone. It takes Niall a few seconds to get it, and then he switches to their text thread to ask, _did u just try to take a selfie ??_

Harry replies seconds later, first with a frowny-face and then, _forgot I don’t show up in photographs._

(Niall gets another snapchat an hour later of an empty airplane-seat selfie. Even though he can’t see Harry, he knows that the vampire is probably smiling like an idiot in the photo all the same.)

*

There’s a motorcycle at the curb when Niall shows up at Harry’s with his car trunk full of boxes and Niall doesn’t think twice about it until Harry comes bounding outside. He envelopes Niall in a hug and it’s overwhelming, at first, Niall hasn’t realized how much he’s missed Harry until this moment and when it hits him he hugs him back tight. Buries his nose in the crook of Harry’s collarbone and they stand like that for a while, Niall knows that Harry’s counting his heartbeats and Harry knows that Niall’s breathing him in. “Hi,” Harry finally sighs.

Niall smiles back and pops the trunk, starts tugging his boxes of things out when Harry clears his throat. “Did you see?” he asks and Niall frowns as he turns, starts to ask _see what--_

Harry’s sitting on the motorcycle with a goofy, proud smile plastered on his face. Niall’s grin falters, falls into an expression of disbelief.

“You didn’t.”

Harry just continues to grin, runs his palms over the handlebars of the bike. “Her name is Betty.”

Niall absolutely cannot keep a straight face. “You bought a motorcycle.” Harry nods. “You named it Betty.” Another nod. “Any particular reason why?”

Harry pouts as he considers his answer. “You posted that photo of your dad and you at that car show? And said you’d buy a motorcycle if you could, right? That was the caption?” he pauses, blinks bashfully up at Niall. “And I watched Captain America while you were gone. It seems like a trend that guys who stay young for a few decades do. Steve Rogers. Benjamin Button. Kiefer Sutherland in that awful vampire movie.” He makes a rumbling noise low in his throat and mocks revving the engine. “You think I make Betty look good?””

Niall wants to say yes but he won’t give Harry the satisfaction, just bites his lip and grins before turning back to his car. “I think Betty’s the one making you look good,” he allows, and thrusts a box of sweaters into Harry’s arms before the other man can get another quip in. “Help me unpack, Dracula.”

*

“My mum died in ‘83,” Harry says carefully. Wants to get this story right. “I was in New York, then. I never told her where or what I was. Uh. I went to her funeral and Gemma was there, freaked out at me about how mum passed thinking that I hated her, or something. So I told Gem everything, I couldn’t have her hating me too, so she knows.”

They’re both working on rearranging Harry’s bookshelf so Niall can have room for his own books, Niall handing Harry the books and Harry finds a place to stack them on the shelf. Can’t pinpoint what exactly brought on this conversation, maybe started when Harry asked Niall how his family was. “When’s the last time you saw her?” Niall probes gently.

Harry shrugs. “Few years.” (Three years ago, met Gemma’s kids and grandkids at Christmas and had to pass it off that he was a family friend’s grandson. He couldn’t bear it to stay through dinner, ended up crying on the back porch and telling Gemma he’d see her again soon. Three years feels like a heartbeat.)

Harry doesn’t offer any more words on the matter and Niall doesn’t push it, switching gears instead to ask, “how was Prague?”

“Met a werewolf,” Harry breathes, relieved for the change of topics, smiles over at Niall. “His name’s Zayn, he lives in London but was doing research over the break there. He’s coming home in a month, I think you’ll like him.”

*

“So. You’re a werewolf?” Niall finally asks, and he sounds more doubtful than he did the first night Harry introduced himself as a vampire. Zayn hums in response, obviously more concerned about finding the page in his sketchbook than he is about answering Niall’s question. Harry’s watching the whole exchange through his rear-view mirror.

“So do you, like, go full-wolf? Or one of those half-things?” Niall pushes and Zayn glances up through his hair, gives Harry a withered look and Harry just smiles sheepishly back, twists in his seat and mouths _humor him_ as the order microphone crackles back, “That’ll be 11.20, at the second window.”

Zayn finally sighs a “yeah” and then rips out the page he was looking for, passes it up front to Harry and turns his full attention to Niall, smirking now. “You’re not too bothered by anything, are you?” he asks, but Harry’s tuning them out, running his fingers over the pencil portrait on the page. It’s _himself_ but grown up, how he must look now and Harry can’t help but laugh, remembers Niall telling him he looks like he’s out of a painting and he was right. Zayn pauses from where he’s explaining the full moon myth to Niall and leans forward, cups the back of Harry’s neck for a moment and gives him a tiny smile in the mirror before rolls his eyes and continuing, “ _no_ , see, it’s got nothing to do with the moon, if it did we’d be closer to aliens than wolves…”

Niall, bless his heart, is still stoned and is squinting very hard at Zayn, obviously trying to follow his logic. “So...you _don’t_ turn on the full moon.”

Zayn’s warming up to him, now, hiding his smile behind his hands as he rubs his face. “We _do_ change, but there’s nothing that special about it. That’s just the only night we have to stay as wolves the whole night. I can shift whenever I want, is what I’m saying.”

Niall opens his mouth a bit and nods solemnly like he understands, and then side-eyes up to Harry with a helplessly confused look. Harry’s spared when they pull up to the drive-thru window, hands over the cash in exchange for their milkshakes, chips and burgers. All the food immediately gets passed to the backseat to Niall and Zayn, Harry’s only warning a muttered, “mind the leather” as the two men in the back tear into the bags. There’s a very stoned, very R-Rated moan from Niall as he finally gets his hands on the milkshake he’s been complaining about for an hour, and then silence for a while until he asks, “so, do you like, hunt for squirrels and shit?”, and Zayn’s laugh reverberates through the car and out the open windows.

*

Netflix becomes Niall’s default research platform, working his way steadily through any and all vampire/werewolf/creature films recommended to him. Harry watches with him sometimes but keeps his comments to a minimum, only pointing out the worst of the inaccuracies, “we can’t be turned mortal again” during _Hemlock Grove_ , “I could never live in a beach town” during _The Lost Boys_ , “I’m pretty sure Zayn’s eyes never change color” during _Blood and Chocolate_. More often than not, Niall ends up asleep while Harry continues muttering to himself during whatever movie is playing. They get into an argument over _Twilight_ , Harry insisting that it’s definitely the least far-fetched vampire film out there and Niall refuses to believe it, _you don’t_ sparkle _, Harry, this movie is awful_ and Harry countering _I do hang out in trees, though._ They FaceTime Zayn to settle it and he answers from his bed, squinting at his phone and grunting, “No, Harry’s right. Werewolf representation is pretty good in that.”

*

Rolling joints and riding Betty around town become part of their routine for the summer and Harry finds himself thinking it’s the 60’s again more than once. Feels like his life is too easy, lately. Tries to distract himself from the feeling that he’s going to fuck it up with motorcycle rides in the middle of the night. It turns out that riding a bike (and now, a motorcycle) is something you never really forget how to do and Betty has grown on Niall since they watched _The Lost Boys_. Harry drives and Niall’s arms tighten around his stomach, fingertips digging into his torso until Niall settles himself on the seat behind Harry, chin hooked over his shoulder. “We look fucking ridiculous,” Niall cackles over the roar of the engine and he feels Harry tremble with laughter that’s drowned out by the noise.

“Would you rather be in a sidecar?” Harry calls over his shoulder, and then peels out from the curb before Niall can reply. They never go very far, just rides to Louis’s apartment or to the ice cream parlor downtown. Harry tinkers with Betty on weekends, swears to Niall in a solemn voice that he worked in an autoshop for five years in the 80’s as he works a wrench on the underside of the bike. He comes in smelling like oil and metal, sharp and coppery and always gives Niall an animated kiss, smears a greasy finger against Niall’s cheek before he goes to take a shower.

Harry’s apartment finally feels like a home, Niall’s hopelessly messy in a way that makes it impossible to keep the flat completely clean, always some abandoned shirt on the couch or a shoe on the floor in the kitchen. The bed hasn’t been made since Niall first met Harry, pillows and blankets scattered and rumpled into a comfortable nest that even Harry spends time in now. Harry never had things on his wall before Niall but he does now, Zayn’s portrait of Harry pinned up above the bed and a whole wall of band banners and posters. Niall’s definitely not the best fashion advisor or the best interior designer, but Harry feels more caught up than he has in decades. His life feels lived in.

*

“Harry?”

He’s in the bathtub when Niall comes into the bathroom, arms crossed over his shirt, soaking in hot water and Niall almost makes a coffin joke until he fully sees Harry. He looks....he looks like he’s fucking dead, and it scares the shit out of him. “Harry,” he says louder, reaches out and touches the man’s shoulder.

Harry’s only seeing red when he opens his eyes, thrashes and twitches a hand out, grabs Niall’s wrist. He feels his fangs sliding out, his gums throbbing and the only thing that stops him is the frantic “what the fuck!” yelp from Niall, who wrenches his arm out of Harry’s grasp.

Harry blinks and the hunger ebbs, a bit, suppressed by the panic building in his chest that he almost hurt Niall. He scrambles out of the tub, “Niall, wait,” but the blonde man is already slipping out of the bathroom, and Harry hears the apartment door click shut a few seconds later.

Harry lets himself be furious for five minutes. And then he goes into auto-pilot after that, drains the tub and puts his wet clothes in the dryer. Cleans up the plate and glass Niall left on the coffee table, does the few dishes waiting in the sink. He hesitates at making the bed. It’s been rumpled and pushed around since Niall first slept here, half of the blankets kicked to the end of the mattress and the pillows arranged in a very-specific nest. It looks lived-in. It looks like Niall. Harry chews his lip, fishes his phone out of his pocket.

_are you alright?_

The read receipt pops up seconds later. Harry’s thumbs hover over his screen, unsure of whether or not he should apologize, or explain. He doesn’t know what’s going to make this worse.

 _ye_ and then, a lifetime (twenty seconds) later, _not scared, or whatever. just upset. im at Paul’s_

This...is not the response Harry was expecting. People being scared of him, he can deal with. People being scared of him is something he can understand. But he’s never had anyone who’s _upset_ at him for being like this. He’s never had anyone who’s seen him that hungry and got _worried_ about him instead of scared.

 _how long has it been_ comes through a few minutes later.

Harry’s jaw aches and he rubs his eyes. He doesn’t even know. It’s been a while. Since Romania, maybe. He leaves Niall’s text unanswered and goes to the kitchen, digs through the freezer for a bloodbag that isn’t frozen solid. It’s bitter and stale when he cuts it open but it’s still something. It’s just that he’s gotten so used to Niall that anything else doesn’t quite do the trick anymore. He doesn’t want to talk about it because it feels like a cliche, honestly. Vampire who gets too attached to his very-warm very-sweet human boyfriend.

Niall comes home a few hours later, slides through the front door and slinks over to sit next to Harry on the couch. They sit in silence for what feels like hours, Harry hasn’t moved at all but Niall’s been inching closer, slowly moves to lay his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Harry exhales and holds the rest of his breath in his throat until Niall sighs back, “it’s alright, Harry.”

Niall crawls into Harry’s lap later that night, starts to tip his head back against Harry’s chest but Harry tenses up and Niall frowns up at him. “Harry. It’s fine. It’s not like I don’t want it.”

Harry doesn’t move until Niall gives up, sighs a disgruntled _fine_ and pads across the room to the bed. It takes him five minutes to dismantle it, Harry had remade it with tightly tucked corners and every blanket and pillow back in it’s place. Niall’s burrowed underneath all of it soon after, pillows and blankets abandoned back on the floor or at the edge of the mattress. Niall falls asleep facing the wall.

Niall tries to get Harry to bite him again in the morning and Harry freezes again, doesn’t trust himself to do it after weeks of _not_ , and it’s not like he can explain this to Niall without sounding like a dick. So he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move until Niall steps back, frown etched deeply on his face. “Are you going to die, or something? Are you going to pull that bathtub shit again if you don’t eat?”

Harry hesitates and then shrugs, looks away when he replies, “I still have my freezer bags, Niall. I’m fine.”

Niall’s jaw twitches but he doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of the day.

As soon as Niall comes home that night something feels off, the same chill he gets when silver is too close. He doesn’t feel cold, ever, but he’s fucking freezing now, gathers the couch blanket unconsciously around his shoulders and rounds the corner to see Niall standing in the doorway. He’s about to ask before he sees the silver studs in Niall’s ears and thin chain around his neck.

“I didn’t know you had your ears pierced,” he settles on saying, voice biting a little only because he’s shivering so hard that his teeth are chattering.

Niall doesn’t answer him, just strolls into the kitchen as if he didn’t hear Harry at all. And, because he’s a desperate idiot, Harry trails after him. “Niall?” Harry’s coughing before he even reaches the kitchen, rounds the corner to see Niall sitting on the kitchen counter nibbling on a slice of garlic bread and glowering across the room at Harry. The whole thing would be almost-funny if Harry wasn’t in so much pain because of it.

“Niall. _Talk_ to me!”

His pleas go ignored and Harry can only stand to be in the kitchen a few minutes longer, pouting across at Niall until his chills and cough gets to be too much. He retreats to the living room, curls up in every blanket he can gather until his fingers and face is poking out. He texts Zayn.

_Have you talked to Niall lately?_

_he was just hereee :)_

Harry narrows his eyes at his phone, aggressively taps back, _is that why he’s being mean to me ?_

 _H, theres not a mean bone in that kids body aha_ and then added quickly after, _hes just trying to protect you, make sure ur OK_

_He’s trying to kill me, you mean._

_i kno wat i said !_

Harry’s still not following and he’s hungry, but his only sources of food are stale in the freezer or sitting on his kitchen counter looking fucking delectable. Zayn texts again,

_he knows u want him but thinks that ur punishing yourself or whatevr ??  
i told him to play hard to get ;)_

_he looks good wearing my jewlry, doesnt he ?_

Harry closes the thread, opens Google and taps in _how to kill a werewolf._

*

Niall and Harry both break at the same time three days later, Niall’s sitting up in bed taking his ear studs out and Harry slinks in from the kitchen over to the bed. Leans against the bedpost cautiously until Niall’s tucked the silver jewelry away in the nightstand drawer.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Harry blurts before Niall can get a word out, “You were gone for so long and I didn’t want to force you back into anything, and I didn’t trust myself to have it totally under control. And the longer I went without you the less control I had and I didn’t know how to tell you that.”

Niall’s watching him steadily, picking at his fingers but he doesn’t break eye contact with Harry as he explains slowly, “It’s not like I don’t trust you, Harry. I’ve just been worried, you know? And if it’s only me who you want to take from, I’m okay with that. I thought you were, like, dead in that bathtub because we haven’t done it in a while, yeah? I don’t want to see you like that ever fucking again.” It feels like the end of the discussion until Harry headbutts Niall’s shoulder gently.

“If they weren’t silver, I’d say you should wear earrings more often. They look good on you.”

Niall’s ears turn pink and he scoffs. “Zayn said if you weren’t allowed to touch me, you’d come to your senses about how much of an idiot you were being.”

“Zayn wasn’t wrong,” Harry grumbles, slinging an arm around Niall’s shoulders and tugging him down to lay on the bed. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he mutters, pressing his face against Niall’s neck. His skin still feels cold from the necklace. He counts Niall’s heartbeats, gets to thirty two before Niall sits up, climbs onto Harry so he’s straddling his waist.

“Is it weird?” Niall asks and Harry almost can’t believe that this is the first time in a year that Niall’s bringing it up. “Being a vampire?”

Harry considers it as he moves his hands up to rest on Niall’s hips, steadying him. “No,” he finally decides, moves his thumb under the hem of Niall’s t-shirt and presses the pad of his finger into the dip of skin at his hip. “Not really. I feel human. You just don’t get tired unless you’re hungry.” And if he’s being honest, the hardest part of it was the first ten or twenty years because he was alone. But now, with Niall and Louis and Zayn, he feels like himself. He feels happy.

*

Harry knows what’s happened before Niall does, Niall doesn’t tug at Harry’s hair the way he normally does when the bite gets overwhelming and Harry gets lost in it. Niall’s too warm and pliant underneath him and Harry almost doesn’t realize that Niall’s pulse is slowing down. There’s a weak gasp that finally makes Harry break off in a panic, moves to press a hand against the bleeding bite on his wrist.

“Niall?”

The younger man doesn’t move and Harry can feel panic climbing up in his throat, Niall’s sweet taste quickly turning bitter. Harry shakes him, presses a bloody finger against his neck. There’s no pulse but Niall’s still warm, Harry’s about to call 911 when Niall twitches. It’s awfully cliche, Harry thinks in a moment of panic, Niall gasping and grabbing Harry’s wrist, pulling him down with a surprising amount of strength. His pupils are blown and unfocused, mouth open in a snarl and he lets out a whine when Harry yanks his hand free, instinctively moving to pin Niall to the couch.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Harry whispers in time with Niall’s panting, his eyes falling shut again. He goes still after a while and Harry remembers this. The morning after the Stones concert trying to wake up from a fitful sleep but not being able to fully come out of it. He fumbles a bit trying to pick Niall up, finally manages to get him on the bed. He stands over Niall for a while, hands knotted in his hair. Can’t believe he accidentally turned his boyfriend into a goddamn vampire, and now all he can do is wait.

*

Zayn insists that he’s not going to be of any help but he comes over anyway and it’s nice to have him there, a calm, stoic presence on the couch while Harry paces the length of the apartment for two hours. Niall’s been still for a while but his pulse is jackrabbiting in his neck whenever Harry checks it, and Harry doesn’t dare wake him up. Zayn’s googling _vampire transformations_ and grabs the back of Harry’s jeans and tugs him down onto the couch. “Look,” Zayn says finally, has some bullshit forum pulled up, “he’s going to be fine. If he freaks out, I can help you hold him down or something. As long as you’ve got blood in your freezer, he’ll be fine.”

Harry’s in the kitchen when Niall pads in the next morning, looking like hell but no fangs or pointed ears, gives Harry a weak smile. “I feel like shit,” he says as he pokes around the fridge, pulls out the carton of orange juice and a yogurt cup. “What did we do last night? After?”

Harry may or may not be gaping at him, fish-mouths a few times before he asks, “What?”

Niall makes a face as he slides onto one of the stools at the island counter. “H, you expecting someone to jump you or something?”

Harry blinks. He’s tense without even realizing it, one hand gripping the edge of the counter and the other white-knuckling his mug. Silently tells himself that there’s no reason to panic if Niall isn’t panicking. He forces a laugh that sounds strangled and clears his throat. “Uh. How are you feeling?”

Niall shrugs. “Hungover as fuck, feels like. Did you get me drunk?”

Harry’s mouth twitches on its own accord. He feels slightly hysterical. “Not exactly.”

(Niall’s still complaining about his “hangover” an hour later, laid on the couch with the curtains drawn and an arm draped over his face.

“You trust me?” Harry calls into the living room and Niall flinches, peeks up over the back of the couch and raises his eyebrows. “Hangover cure,” Harry clarifies, waves a hand like it’s nothing, “Grilled cheese and tomato soup, one of my old friends swears by it.”

Niall responds with an indistinct grunt and Harry takes it as a yes, turns his stove on. He whips up a grilled cheese and swaps Niall’s tomato juice with a glass of cow blood. Niall downs it all with a satisfied hum. “How the hell was I craving tomato juice?” he laughs when he’s finished the whole meal, rolls his eyes towards Harry, who’s been eyeing him anxiously this entire time. Harry replies with a forced smile and limp shrug.)

*

“So…he’s fine?” Zayn asks, hiding a grin like he doesn’t believe a word of this. Harry throws his hands up in defeat.

“I have no idea! I don’t know. I don’t remember how I figured it out when I got turned.”

“So? Why don’t you just tell him?”

Harry bites his lip. “He doesn’t seem that different. And I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

Zayn covers his face and leans back against the couch, sighing loudly. “I’d be more mad if you _didn’t_ tell me something like that, Harry.”

And honestly, if Niall was more freaked out about his new vampire symptoms, Harry would have told him immediately. But Niall is completely oblivious to all of it, unbothered by the fact that he got a bright red sunburn from being outside for ten minutes and broke out in a rash when he tried to put his silver watch on. It’s kind of amazing, at this point, the level of cluelessness Niall has about the entire thing. Regardless, he’s doing well, if only because Harry’s been taking care of him. Slipping him blood instead of smoothies in his travel mug and only asking Niall to go out with him at night. Zayn thinks the whole thing is bloody hilarious, Harry as some kind of vampire babysitter and Niall going around thinking he’s still human.

“His fangs come out at night,” Harry mutters to Zayn, the two of them out on the balcony and watching Niall and Louis set up Harry’s new Playstation. Zayn’s already laughing and Harry’s grinning as he continues, “he can _sleep_ , or at least he thinks he’s sleeping, he’ll just clock out for a few hours in bed. I guess his teeth come down when he’s really relaxed? I can’t believe he hasn’t picked up on it yet. He asked me the other day what some smell was, and it was the Italian restaurant a block away.”

“Old human habits die hard,” Zayn replies, watching Louis steady through the glass door, gesturing with his cigarette. “Does Louis know?”

Harry shakes his head and tacks on, before Zayn can lecture him, “Yeah, sure, ‘hey Louis, I accidentally turned your best friend into a vampire, but it’s fine. He doesn’t even know.’ He would kill me. Stake through the heart, cut my head off, whatever it takes. I’m pretty sure he’s still holding a grudge because I couldn’t eat the first meal he ever microwaved for us.”

Zayn snorts, smoke leaking out his mouth. “Louis is all bark and no bite.”

*

Zayn comes over with breakfast one morning, opens the apartment door to see Niall sitting on the couch, wide awake watching _The X-Files_. “Have you slept?” he asks incredulously and Niall barely takes his eyes off the screen when he replies, “nope. I’m on Season 3, I can’t sleep _now_.”

Zayn muffles his laugh in a cough, ducks into the kitchen and leaves the bagels and coffee mugs on the counter. “Harry’s not home?” he says at a normal voice, even though Niall’s in the living room.

“No, had to go out to the butchers, I think he said,” Niall shouts in response and Zayn smiles down at the counter, shakes his head. Niall’s acquired Vampire Hearing like it’s nothing. He pads back into the living room and plops onto the couch next to Niall, draping an arm over the back of the couch between them.

“Brought you breakfast,” he offers and Niall holds up a hand as a polite denial, eyes never leaving the TV.

“‘S alright, Harry’s been making me these killer breakfast smoothies lately, I was just going to wait until he’s home.”

“He’s been going to the butcher a lot, lately?” Zayn prods carefully and Niall shrugs, shifts on the couch so he can drape his legs across Zayn’s lap.

“Yeah, guess so, I think he’s been out of whack since Romania. I let him bite me like, a week ago, and he’s been acting weird ever since.” Niall frowns to himself and then mutes the TV. “It was the first time since he got back, and I was just worried about him, you know? Sometimes he looks at me like I’m so fragile and I thought, like, fine, if he thinks he’s going to break me then he’s not allowed to have me at all. Kinda childish, right?” he tinkers with the remote for a few moments. “It feels like I’m protecting him more than myself sometimes, I guess. Like, what’s the worst he could do to me, right?”

Zayn’s caught somewhere between laughing and pitying Niall, the fact that he doesn’t know that Harry’s been protecting Niall for the last eight days, that the only reason Niall hasn’t lost his mind and killed someone in typical new-vampire hunger is because Harry’s been keeping him fed and distracted. Zayn doesn’t know how to explain to Niall that both he and Harry’s obliviousness is really just unwavering, unquestionable loyalty to each other. Zayn’s only ever seen that kind of love between other werewolves in packs. But then again, he thinks as Harry walks through the door with a smile and Niall perks up and chirps _morning_ , that he’s never met a pair quite like Harry and Niall before.

*

Niall and Zayn are sprawled on the bed watching Harry and Louis play Call of Duty (read: Louis following Harry’s player everytime he respawns and kills him again, while Zayn and Niall shout control options at Harry from the other side of the room). Niall’s found the spot on Zayn’s head that practically makes him purr, scrubs his knuckles along the man’s scalp and Louis keeps glancing over at them, distracted enough at one point that Harry manages to put one bullet into his player’s leg, lets out a victorious yelp, and is promptly killed when Louis turns his attention back to the screen.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks at the end of the level, tilts his head over towards Zayn, who looks half-asleep with his head in Niall’s lap. Zayn shifts, sits up and raises his eyebrows towards Harry. “Do you not tell them anything?” he asks incredulously, doesn’t wait for Harry to answer when he looks at Louis and asks, “he tell you I’m a werewolf, right?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Sure. Okay. Christ, is there anything else you lot want to tell me? Niall, you’re not secretly a wizard, right?”

Niall frowns, looks at his palms. “I think I’m just Niall.”

Zayn turns his glare back towards Harry, amber and sharp and he mouths, _just Niall?_ and Harry sighs and gives Zayn a solemn nod. Yeah, he should probably tell Niall.

*

“We need to talk, Niall.”

Niall’s smile wavers after a moment when he sees Harry’s expression. “What, you serious? Am I in trouble?”

Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head, gestures for Niall to come to the table.

“Something...happened,” Harry starts after an exhale. “The other night.”

Niall snorts, buries his face in his hands and peeks up over his fingertips. Scruffs up his hair. “What, you got me pregnant or something? Turn me into a vampire?”

Harry freezes, looks slowly up and over at Niall. “How...how long have you known?”

Niall’s face falls flat and then twists into a confused, soft smile, the same smile he gives when Harry’s talking and not making a lick of sense. “Known what?”

There’s a pause, Niall still not quite putting it together and Harry’s words stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he starts with, and it makes it easier, somehow, leading with that, “the other night, you passed out and I kept…” he frowns down at his hands. “I went too far. I took too much. And you passed out. You didn't have a pulse and you woke up and tried to bite me, a few times. And then the next morning?" Niall’s mouth drops into a frown but Harry pushes through because he can’t lose his nerve now, “and you’re a vampire, now, I guess,” he finishes lamely.

Niall almost looks like he doesn’t believe him. On the edge of skepticism but they both know it’s the truth because Harry wouldn’t lie about this. “How…” Niall starts, clears his throat and blushes. He’s embarrassed, laughs and knots a hand in his hair. “Are you sure?”

Harry rests his chin in his palm, replies with a gentle smile and answers, “I’ve been looking out for you. Your favorite grilled-cheese-tomato-soup combo I make you? Those breakfast smoothies? It wasn’t tomato juice.”

Niall almost pulls a face when he puts it together, stuck between disgust and befuddlement. “I’ve been a vampire for a week and a half?” he laughs finally and Harry cracks a grin, too, shrugs.

“If it makes you feel better, you probably didn’t know because I took such good care of you,” Harry teases and Niall exhales hard, shaking his head.

“Okay. Okay.” Niall goes still for a few moments and Harry can see him taking deep breaths, rubs his eyes. When he looks back across at Harry’s he’s not quite smiling yet. “You going to teach me how to be a vampire?”

Harry raises his hands innocently. “Looks like you’ve got it down just fine.”

*

Niall figures it all out quicker than Harry ever did, and without any decades-worth of bitterness about it. “I understand what you meant about the fangs,” he says over dinner at Louis’s one night and Harry cocks his head and frowns at him. “What?”

“When you first met me,” Niall elaborates, opening his mouth a bit and running a tongue over the fangs peeking out under his lips. “You said I liked them, and that they’re uncomfortable when they’re up.”

Louis snorts into his beer, mutters in a mocking voice “ _oh, my vampire fangs are “uncomfortable””_ as he gets up to get more crisps. Niall grins and bares his teeth at Louis as he walks by, and his friend responds by flicking him hard on the ear.

“You think we’ll be together forever?” Harry blurts because he can’t help it, something about the bitemark scar on Niall’s wrist and his new fangs that he won’t stop running his tongue over has Harry panicking that Niall’s going to leave him for someone better. Some _real_ vampire living in Transylvania in a castle and wearing a cloak or something.

Niall doesn’t even blink at the bluntness of Harry’s statement, just turns back to his Playstation controller and props his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s not like we really have a choice, Harry,” he replies seriously but Harry can see the corner of his mouth picking up in a smile. “Besides, in a few decades,” Niall tacks on and he is grinning now, fangs and all, “we’re both going to have some catching up to do. Better to do it together, yeah?”

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about all the vampire movies I watched while writing these fics on [tumblr](http://clintb4rton.tumblr.com) lmao I'm practically an expert now


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